Some Nights
by SLynn
Summary: Carol and Phil share drinks in an attempt to move on with their lives. Takes place after the movie. Follow-up to Conquer. #14 in Recruitment series. Carol Danvers. Phil Coulson. Clint Barton. Random Avengers!


**Title: Some Nights**  
**Author:** SLynn  
**Rating:** T (language)  
**Fandom:** Avengers (movieverse)  
**Characters:** Carol, Phil, Clint, Avengers!

**Spoilers:** Takes place after the movie. Follow-up to Conquer. #14 in Recruitment series.

**Notes:** It's my birthday and I have new fic to post! This is the 10th draft. I've been trying to get this done for ages now and finally got there. My intentions for this is to be almost a bridge piece, to wrap-up the first part of the series and introduce the next part. Anyway, enjoy! Also - thank you Tripp3235 for beta'ing this thing and putting up with my endless whining about not being able to finish it. You are the best!

**Summary:** Carol and Phil share drinks in an attempt to move on with their lives.

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. He was the only one at SHIELD who knew how to make a decent cup of coffee."

Carol laughed, clinking her glass to his as she shook her head.

"That was weak," she intoned with a semi-straight face. "Was that really the best you can do?"

Phil shrugged, grinning now himself. "I'm running out of things to say."

"I seriously doubt that. What with you being so..."

"Old?"

"I was going to say full of life experience," Carol argued politely. "Besides, I've heard all of your stories. Making coffee isn't why SHIELD would miss you."

"You've never had my coffee," he countered, "and you've only heard most of my stories. I've been holding back on the really good ones."

"I happen to prefer tea," she shot back at him.

"Noted."

"And," she started, but stopped suddenly as the banging of the door announced a new arrival.

The bar they met at, and had been meeting at every Tuesday night since Carol had been set free by SHIELD, was not heavily frequented. Carol eyed the newcomer apprehensively before settling down again, but her early ease was gone.

"Where were we?" she asked, trying to brush it off.

"Well," Phil said after a pause, having checked out the man as well and assessed him as harmless, "I believe you were calling me old."

"You're not old," Carol said, turning her eyes briefly towards her drink.

"Sure."

"Fine," she laughed. "You are old. Feel better?"

"Quit stalling," he said with half a smile, holding his glass up as he waited for her toast. It was, after all, why they were there. One of the reasons at least.

"Okay, okay," she said, shaking her head. "Um... Okay. To Carol Danvers," she said, holding her glass up next to his. "She would have made a horrible wife."

Phil nodded, allowing her that one with a faint smile, but soon found he couldn't let it pass entirely.

"You don't really believe that," he decided.

Carol looked down into her glass and shrugged as she set about shredding her paper napkin into tiny bits of confetti.

"Maybe not entirely," she allowed after a moment, "but David and I wouldn't have lasted. We'd have gotten married, because we thought we should... it's practically why we got engaged. When you're in a relationship that long it's expected but... you're forgetting yourself."

"Probably because I'm old."

"That's not funny," she said dryly. "And you know the rules. No arguments. We toast what we want to toast and no arguments. It's all a part of the self-pity hour," she said as she threw a handful of homemade confetti into the air. "It's the only way we can really channel all of that negativity. Think of it like therapy."

"I hate therapy."

"So do I, which is why we're here," Carol smiled, raising her glass to him again before taking another drink.

"Okay, no arguments," Phil agreed after a moment or two of comfortable silence between them. "But you started it."

"I did not -"

"You started it," he interrupted. "You said I'd be missed for more than my coffee."

"I wasn't arguing, I was stating a fact."

"When did you join SHIELD again? I don't recall you roaming the halls. You've never even had my coffee for that matter."

"Fine. You win. They've kept you around for all those years," she said, emphasizing the word 'all' and relieved to see him laugh, "because of your superior coffee making skills. Nothing else."

"Nothing else," Phil agreed. "Just like your then-impending marriage was doomed to failure."

"He did get married and have two kids since I've been dead," Carol shrugged. "Clearly my loss broke him."

"Everyone grieves differently," Phil tacked on cynically, but Carol laughed again. High and clear and somehow true.

Whatever gloom that had tagged along with her into the bar was fading. Which was also why they were there. It's what kept them both coming back for drinks and toasts, and the world's saddest celebration of life after death. That chance to feel a little normal again. To make it absurd so it wouldn't be so tragic. To have a reason to laugh, even if it was at themselves.

What else could they do?

"To us," he said, clinking her glass with his, even though she was no longer holding it. "The ungrateful dead."

"More like the gratefully undead."

"Today I am," Phil said with a nod.

"Me, too."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Dead before we had to put him out to pasture."

"Again with the old man nonsense?"

"Drink," Phil said, a little harsher than he mean to but Carol shrugged it off and made the toast official. "Your turn."

"You don't want to talk about it?" Carol asked.

"No arguments. No discussion. Rules, remember? Your turn."

"Clearly someone missed the early bird special," she said under her breath, but loud enough to ensure she'd been heard. "Fine, gramps. Have it your way," she said, raising her glass. "To Carol Danvers. Thank God she didn't live long enough to learn her journalism degree is worth shit."

"I didn't know that."

"It's true," Carol nodded before taking a sip. "I mean, I'm sure being legally dead isn't helping in my job hunt but... everyone has a blog now and journalism is a lost art, integrity doesn't exist, so if SHIELD ever gets hold of a time traveling mutant or something, could you have them stop by my house about fifteen years back and tell me to major in basically anything else. Please?"

"I meant I didn't know what you'd majored in," Phil sighed, because she clearly knew what he had meant.

"Everything we talked about in those cells and we never got around to college?"

"That's probably because I never went."

"What?" Carol asked, genuinely surprised.

"I meant to go, I just never did. Graduated high school and went straight into the army. Thought there'd be time later, but there never was. There was SHIELD and assignments. Projects and assets to manage... time just gets away from you. Next thing you know..."

"You wake up old," Carol finished for him.

"Or in my case, dead."

"You could go back, if you wanted. To college. You're not really dead, remember?"

"Tonight I am," Phil said cautiously. "Rules, remember?"

"Are all old-dead men this rule obsessed?"

"SHIELD agents are," Phil said, nearly sneering into his drink as he took another gulp. Sensing Carol's eyes on him, and knowing she wouldn't stop, he decided to just get it over with and admit what was really bothering him. "Deputy Hill is using a loophole to keep me grounded. Very successfully I might add."

"Why?"

Phil thought about brushing her off, but couldn't. He couldn't and he found he didn't want to. Instead he sighed as he tapped his chest and Carol understood.

"But there haven't been side effects," she half-asked, half-stated.

"Medical cleared me," he said, taking another drink and draining the glass. "I've got the scar but on the inside it's like it never happened. My stats are actually better than they were," he said with a dry laugh, "but there are clear guidelines for convalescent leave following major trauma. Sixteen months. No field work."

"Sixteen months before or after you came back from the dead?"

Phil laughed and gave her a real smile; the first of the night.

"Before," Phil said. "I had to fight for it, she wanted another month added on just in case, but Director Fury agreed with me in the end. The sixteen months would begin from the time I died."

"So how long is it then? How long do you have left?"

"Three weeks."

Carol nodded and knew how he felt. She knew acutely how it felt to be kept away from what you loved doing. She still longed to fly, so much so that she'd begun dreaming about doing it again. Some nights even without the jet.

Phil loved his job the way Carol had loved hers. It was who they were. It was their identity.

"So can I expect three more weeks worth of toasts whining about how old and useless you've become?" Carol asked.

"Are you going to keep complaining about your quality education to others less fortunate than yourself?"

"Yes," she said, completely straight-faced.

"Here's to us, then," Phil said, smiling as he held up his empty glass to hers. "Past our expiration dates."

Carol screwed up her face as if trying to make sense of his words.

"I'm old," Phil said, pointing at himself, "and you're spoiled," he explained, motioning across the table as he spoke. "We're both expired. Past our expirations."

"Oh, no, I got it. It just wasn't funny."

Phil gave her a hard look, trying to sort her out, before Carol gave in and laughed.

"I almost had you that time," Carol said as soon as she'd calmed down enough to speak. "One day, I swear... but your face is so serious. I can't. I can't," she giggled.

"Thank goodness you're not a spy," Phil said, finally laughing along with her.

"Well, yeah," Carol agreed. "Not anymore."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson," Phil said, glass raised. "He had nice suits."

"To Carol Danvers," Carol added, clinking her glass to his. "She had great hair."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. At least he died before his sudden but inevitable betrayal."

"I loved that show," Carol sighed.

"Everyone loved that show. Your turn."

"Fine. To Carol Danvers. No one mourns the wicked."

"I'm confused," he admitted after they'd taken their customary drink. "Are you quoting something or confessing?"

"Of course I am," she said, amused when his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Quoting, not confessing. You don't get it?" she pressed, and when he shook his head tacked on, "Before you died were you living under a rock?"

"No. I was living in a flying city," he said so evenly Carol had to laugh. "What's it from?" Phil asked.

"Not buying it. Tell me you're joking."

"I don't joke."

"Seriously?" Carol asked, because that was a lie.

"Seriously," Phil repeated.

"It's from Wicked. On Broadway. Huge musical about the Wizard of Oz. Defying Gravity and all of that."

Phil nodded his head, knowing it was familiar from somewhere before finally realizing where. "Wasn't there a book?"

"We don't talk about the book."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Good thing he had no real family left to notify."

"To Carol Danvers. She wasn't the favorite anyway."

* * *

"Come on," Phil said, prodding the top of Carol's head where it rested on the table, tucked under her arms. "Toast."

"Not today."

"You're here," Phil said, trying for encouraging but sounding more reproachful. "You show up, you toast. Rules, remember."

"You first," she mumbled, finally lifting her head up, but only enough to look him in the eyes. "You always go first."

"Fine," he said, sitting up straighter as he held his glass up in the air. "To Phil Coulson. He had a form for everything."

"Heh," she snorted, her face momentarily lit up with a smile before it fell away again.

"Your turn."

"I don't have one."

"Rules."

"Ugh," she grunted, picking up her glass so quickly the contents spilled up over the rim and onto the table. "Fine. To Carol Danvers. It's like she never even existed."

Without saying more she tossed back the drink and slammed it back onto the table hard enough to crack the glass before staring him down from across the table.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head as she finally looked away. "Everything," she added, softening after a moment's reflection. "Both... I don't..."

"What happened?" Phil repeated patiently.

"I'm not..." Carol started, stopping abruptly to take a deep breath. "I knew that life had gone on. Life... Life goes on all the time. I don't want you to think I'm naive or stupid."

"I know you're not, Carol."

"Some days," she said, shaking her head. "Some days it's just so hard. Some days it just hits so much harder that everything happened without me. That I missed so much. We were stuck on pause, Phil, and the world... the world just kept on going."

Phil reached out wordlessly and squeezed her hand with his own.

"Today was a really, really bad day," Carol said, flipping her hand over so that their palms rested together.

"How's tomorrow looking?"

Carol pushed her hair off her face and stared at him for a moment before offering up a somber smile.

"Better."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. How in the hell are we going to handle Barton without him?"

Carol smirked before clearing her throat and raising her glass.

"To Carol Danvers. At least she knew how to play charades."

"Ha-ha," Clint said, looking first at Phil and then at Carol. "Is that what it's going to be like? The two of your weren't happy enough with your secret twin language or your weekly getaway. Now you're both comedians with nothing better to laugh at then me?"

"You didn't have to come," Phil said with a shrug, holding his glass up to toast.

"Yeah, Ace," Carol agreed with a smug smile, glass still held high. "We're waiting."

"This is all kinds of stupid, you both know that, don't you?"

"We do," Phil assured him.

"Okay then..." Clint said, shutting his eyes briefly before bringing his glass up to meet theirs. "To Clint Barton. Who won the pool?"

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Now we don't have to pay his retirement."

"Crap, that was good," Carol said, shaking her head. "I should have thought of that."

"But you didn't," Phil pointed out, motioning for her to go next.

"Fine. To Carol Danvers," she said, pausing for several seconds before continuing on. "Everything she had she left to her cat."

"Middling," Phil said with a shrug.

"Whatever," Carol said with an unconcerned laugh. "You're up, Clint. Dazzle us."

"Shouldn't be hard to do, considering..." Phil said, his focus momentarily on Carol when it shouldn't have been. He'd momentarily forgotten how bad Clint's week had been.

"Yes, sir. To Clint Barton. Expendable."

Clint didn't bother to clink glasses with the other two. He merely tossed back his drink and left without saying any more.

For a few minutes neither Carol nor Phil spoke. They both sipped their drinks, their eyes alternating between the door, their glasses, the table, the floor; anywhere but one another.

"We received the final report today," Phil felt he had to explain. "I can't go into detail, not here, but they went after Clint because he was considered a soft target. He is not taking that very well."

"I figured that last part out," Carol said softly, running her finger over the top of her glass as she cast about the bar one more time. "Can't say I'd act any different, since we're being honest here."

"He'll see reason," he said, looking calm but Carol could see the tension behind his eyes.

"Will he?"

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Turns out he was overrated."

"Phil..."

"Your turn," Phil said as he shut his eyes and rubbed his hand across his forehead.

"Okay," Carol sighed, "but... I don't know. Isn't this kind of getting out of hand?"

"Rules, Danvers."

"I'm Danvers now?" Carol fired back at him.

"Would you prefer Captain?" Phil asked.

"Actually, I would," she answered coldly. "If we're being formal, Agent, Captain will do just fine. Thank you."

Phil stared her down, but Carol didn't falter. She met his gaze and held it. Willing to wait all night by the set of her jaw.

"The whole thing is..." Phil finally relented, dropping his shoulders as he slumped slightly in his chair. "I don't know what to do."

"You may have to be a teeny bit more specific than that."

"I'm not sure I can," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbing his face again in irritation.

"Classified?"

"No. Just... just Clint," he admitted. Carol nodded, understanding his reluctance. "He's struggling," Phil said after thinking over exactly how much to say. "He won't admit it and he won't tell me exactly why..."

"He was dead for nearly half a year."

"I don't think that's it."

"You were dead, too."

Phil mulled it over as he took a sip from his drink.

"Listen," Carol said, "I don't know him as well as you do, so I can only tell you to go with your instincts. If you think something is wrong, you're probably right. Confront him." Carol sat back in surprise when Phil laughed. "What?" she asked.

"You don't' know him very well," he repeated, still laughing before sobering up enough to continue. "Clint... you can't confront him directly. About anything. He's stubborn and it just makes him dig in deeper. He doesn't like confrontation and so he avoids it. At all costs."

"He doesn't?" Carol asked uncertainly. "Isn't he... He's an Avenger. He was some kind of super spy assassin. I thought confrontation was part of the job."

"He is a sniper," Phil corrected. "He handles his problems, all of his problems, from as far away as possible. Sometimes before they even become problems. It's not just a fighting style, it's a lifestyle for him. Worst of all, he hides. Clint has always been very good at hiding his real issues. Masking them as something else."

"And you can't figure out what's going on," Carol guessed.

"Something is wrong but..."

"So what seems to be his problem?"

"Inferiority."

"And that's something he's never had to deal with before?"

"Never," Phil admitted with a chuckle.

"He is a cocky bastard," Carol said smiling. "Okay, so... what could it be?"

Phil shrugged, but Carol got the feeling it was more to avoid answering her directly. That he might be working on an answer, or even have an answer, but didn't want to give it away. That it might be too much to give away about Clint.

"I still say confront him directly," she said after a moment. "Even if this whole complex he's nursing is a cover, at least that cover will be blown. He'll have to change tactics or fess up. He'll either double down on the complex or find something new to hide behind. Since you're convinced he won't just come out with it, at least then you'll be able to knock something new off the list. Narrow the field while you root out the real problem."

"That's... that's not half bad," he said after considering her idea.

"To Carol Danvers," she said triumphantly as she raised her glass. "Not all her ideas were bad."

"I said it wasn't half bad."

"Close enough," she said with a wink.

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Certified bastard."

"To Carol Danvers. Hard ass."

"To Clint Barton. Asshole of the year, ten years running."

"Eleven," Phil corrected.

"Fuck you, sir," Clint laughed.

* * *

"Where's Phil?" Carol asked when Clint arrived alone.

"Assignment."

"That thing in Busan?"

"He tell you about that?" Clint asked as he returned with a drink.

"No, the television did," Carol answered. "You guys can't sneeze without six reporters speculating about which of you caught the flu first."

"So if you knew, why were you asking where he is?"

"Because if he can't make it, he usually calls. And you're here. Obviously the flight made it back so..."

"They're not back yet," Clint said as he raised his glass to take a sip. "I wasn't on it." Carol covered his drink with her hand and pushed it back towards the table, effectively stopping him mid-drink. "Why?" he asked, perplexed by behavior. "Why'd you do that?"

"First," Carol sighed. "We don't drink until we toast."

"The two of you need to relax," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Second," Carol continued, her voice stern as if he'd interrupted her lecture, which he had. "Why weren't you there? Phil said you were going."

"I thought the TV told you about Busan," Clint said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Carol countered, finally taking her hand off of his glass. "So he told me. Big deal. Why didn't you go?"

"To Clint Barton," he said, glass back in the air as he made his toast. "Grounded until he clears psych."

"That's not a proper toast."

"Fuck it," he shrugged and took a drink. "Your turn."

"Psych tests are bullshit."

"Tell me about it," he agreed. "It's still your turn."

"To Carol Danvers. You can't bullshit a bullshitter."

Clint laughed and drank along with her, but when he continued to smile Carol grew suspicious.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, still smirking as he shook his head and tried to look innocent.

"What?" she snapped, no longer amused.

"Your toast was funny."

"Why?"

"Because..."

"I swear to God, Barton. Out with it. Why was it funny?"

"I was just amused because I'm not the only one who hasn't cleared psych."

"Phil's on the mission," she said, confused.

"I know."

"So..."

Clint just smiled as he locked eyes with Carol and took another drink.

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Purveyor of fine baked goods and pastries."

"To Carol Danvers. Smarter than she looked."

"Why - " Phil started to ask.

"Drink," Carol interrupted.

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. He once killed a cactus."

"To Carol Danvers. Hell hath no fury."

"Is something -"

"Drink."

* * *

"To Phil Coulson. Clueless."

"To Carol Danvers. Friendless."

"This has -"

"Drink."

"No," Phil objected, taking her gently by the wrist and stopping her from continuing. "This has gone on long enough. Tell me what is wrong."

"Why don't you tell me," Carol said, matter-of-factly as she shrugged off his grip and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"If I knew, I wouldn't need to ask."

Carol looked him in the eyes and Phil waited. He watched her, watching him, until she was finally convinced he didn't know. Or at least convinced he didn't suspect.

"I'm under surveillance."

"SHIELD provided you with an apartment in the city," Phil said evenly. "I thought you understood what that entailed."

"I did," Carol said with a crisp nod of her head. "But I'm also being evaluated." Phil shut his eyes, dropping his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Am I some kind of threat?" she asked, seeing his actions as confirmation. "Am I on a watch list? Are there agents circling the block right now, waiting for me to snap?"

"No," Phil said, hoping to assure her. "It's not like that."

"Is that why you're here?" she pressed. "Is this some kind of ongoing..."

"No."

"...outpatient treatment? Are you meeting with me..."

"Carol, it's not like that."

"...to make sure I haven't cracked? What is this? Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"You're misconstruing the situation," Phil said, shaking his head and feeling flustered. "I'm not here under any official capacity. I swear it, Carol. I'm not. I'm here because I want to be."

"But I am being evaluated," Carol insisted. "And I'm failing those evaluations apparently."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Clint told you," Phil guessed, slapping his hand on the table in frustration. It all made a sick kind of sense. He'd confronted Clint, like Carol had suggested, but instead of feigning something new, Clint had diverted the attention away from himself entirely. He had hit Phil where Clint had thought him weakest. Phil would be impressed, proud even, if he wasn't so pissed off.

"At least someone did."

"Carol -"

"Don't bother," she interrupted, getting up and leaving before he could stop her.

* * *

"To Phil Coulson," he started to say, but it didn't feel right.

Instead Phil finished his drink in silence.

Alone.

* * *

"You've got five minutes," Carol said curtly as she made a show of checking her watch. She'd already ordered her drink and this already felt like a waste of time. "Talk."

"Nice to see you, too," Tony returned, smiling brightly as if he was having a regular conversation. "It's been awhile. How's Boston?"

"Humid."

"You're parents?" he pressed, for no other reason than he could. As if proving that she couldn't drop off the radar. Not from SHIELD. Certainly not from the Avengers.

"Great."

"You are quite the conversationalist," Tony said with a smile as he tapped Steve on the shoulder. "Now I know why Phil and Clint were keeping Tuesday nights a secret. I was curious before, but now I get it. You are too good to share."

Carol shifted her focus from Tony's shit-eating grin to the man who sat rigidly, and completely un-amused, to his left.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Looking disappointed and a bit angry even. Reminding Carol more and more of her own brother, also a Steven, which wasn't a great thing. Her Steven had been the middle child, the favorite, the one who had died first and the only one her parents had really wanted back.

They even looked alike. A little. Tall. Blond. Blue-eyed and fit. She even thought he had a bit of the same smugness.

Carol knew she shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but...

"What," she repeated, slowly this time, "do you want?"

"There's been a misunderstanding," Steve said.

"No," she disagreed. "There really hasn't."

"Phil's not spying on you," Tony added, still condescending. Still talking as if this whole thing was an obvious mistake.

"Okay," Carol said with a nod.

"He's not," Steve said, leaning forward and losing a bit of his aggressiveness. It helped, but it wasn't enough. "He really thought you understood -"

"I understand plenty," Carol interrupted. "I know I'm being watched. What I didn't know was that the person I thought was my friend was secretly running me through head games."

"He wasn't," Steve argued.

"And that's..." Tony said, stopping and shutting his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "That's kind of on us."

"Us?" Steve repeated.

"Fine, it's on me. It's all my fault. You have my permission to hate me."

"Did I ask for your permission?" Carol fired back at him with an icy indifference.

"This is not going well," Tony said under his breath before mentally regrouping to try again. "Okay, you're right. You don't need my permission for anything. Ever. Just... you know, don't hit us again. Please. It hurt and I don't like pain. Steve might but..."

"Really?" Steve asked, still not amused.

"...I'm opposed to violence. When possible. It's really just a last resort for me."

"I'm not a violent person," Carol began.

"Clearly," Tony agreed.

"But I am starting to feel like a violent person," Carol finished. "And your time is almost up."

"Listen, failing that psych test is like a badge of honor," Tony said, waving his hand as if to dismiss any unease she might feel. "It's practically a requirement to join the team. None of us are right. None of us passed. Well," he hemmed, motioning towards Steve. "Some of us passed. But only the boring people."

"What?" Carol asked, growing more confused by the second.

"We want you to join the team," Steve stated plainly.

"But SHIELD requires all of us to pass ridiculous tests and..." Tony started to say, trailing off as he watched Carol get abruptly to her feet and storm out of the bar. "Where's she going? What... Why did that just happen? That just happened, didn't it? We weren't done. Did she leave?"

"Yes. She did," Steve answered as he shook his head.

"That really did not go well."

"No. It did not."

* * *

"You're late."

Carol glared at Clint before shrugging it off and sitting down across from him at their usual table.

"It's fine," Clint continued and to his credit, he sounded sincere. "I haven't been here long. You remember Tasha, right?" he asked, nodding at the woman to his right.

"Agent Romanoff," Carol greeted, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

"Captain," the other woman returned with a similar gesture.

"I don't want to waste a lot of words or time here," Clint said, shifting his hands from the table to his lap. "I thought you knew."

"You thought I knew," Carol repeated.

"Phil tells you everything and I thought you knew."

"So... that was your idea of a joke?" Carol asked, eyebrow raised but otherwise her face was a blank slate.

"Or something," he half-heartedly agreed.

Carol stayed quiet. Neither she nor Natasha made a move to resolve any tension at the table. They both sat still and waited. Staring at Clint.

"Will you please," Clint said after a long pause, the word 'please' coming out strained, "talk to Phil. Answer the phone. Something. He thought you were dead again."

"No, he didn't."

"Okay, he didn't," Clint admitted. "But you really should -"

"I don't see why I should do anything."

"You should because it's my fault, not his. You're punishing the wrong person, Carol."

"At least you told me."

"I only told you -" he started, stopping quickly before changing tactics. "It doesn't matter, does it? I didn't do it to be nice. I didn't even think... Just talk to him."

"Does that work?" Carol shot back at him, all false curiosity. "If you repeat something enough, do people just do what you want them to do?"

"I screwed up," Clint snapped. "Help me fix it."

"By talking to Phil."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why not?" he asked, frustrated by her rigid attitude.

"Why didn't he tell me?" she asked, folding her arms as she leaned away from the table.

"You'll have to ask him yourself," he answered with an exaggerated shrug.

"Okay," Carol said with a nod, as if that was a fair point. "If these tests really were part of the Avengers rite of passage, or whatever, why didn't anyone else tell me?"

Clint dropped his eyes before inclining his head slightly in Tasha's direction.

"Was it all a lie?" Carol asked, her eyes shifting from Clint to Natasha.

"Steve Rogers doesn't lie," Clint said, almost amused by the accusation.

"Tony Stark is the one who said it," Carol countered.

"Stark lies less than you'd think," Natasha added.

"Should I take your word for it?" Carol returned sarcastically.

"Okay, I... I can see why you wouldn't trust us," Clint said grudgingly. "Even me. Everyone has been up to some real shady shit lately. We can all agree on that. But Phil -"

"Lied."

"By omission. He does that," Clint said with complete earnestness. Almost fondly. "Everyone does that."

"He does that to you?"

"Yes," Clint answered readily. "It pisses me off, too. But he's usually got a real good reason so..."

"So what reason does he have this time?" Carol asked, unmoved.

"I don't know," Clint stressed. "You'll have to ask him yourself if you want to know, because I really don't. Like I said, I thought he had told you. Hell, I thought he'd be excited about you being on the team but -"

"He doesn't want me on the team?" Carol interrupted.

Natasha muttered something under her breath as she shook her head.

"I'm trying to help," Clint grumbled back at her, obviously understanding something Carol had not.

"Enough," Natasha said as she shook her head at the two of them. "Call Phil. Come to some kind of understanding and then come by the Tower. You have the address?"

"Big ugly building in the middle of New York," Carol confirmed.

"We're done then," Natasha finished curtly, getting to her feet and ready to go. "Join us. Don't join us. It's your choice. But you should hear Phil out. You at least owe him that. And he owes you, too."

Without waiting for a reply, Natasha exited the bar leaving Clint behind at the table with Carol.

"To Clint Barton," he said, holding up an imaginary glass. They'd never bothered to order real drinks. "He was always stepping in it."

Carol smiled back at him weakly, still unsure of what she was going to do next.

"To Carol Danvers," she finally said, her words coming out like a sigh. "She never saw reason."

Clint gave her a nod and a smile that was understanding. Probably more understanding than she deserved, but it was likely he'd been there himself.

"I want to trust him," Carol finally admitted.

"Talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Well, Carol," Clint sighed, standing up and stretching. Ready to go. "If you want to be an Avenger, he's part of the deal."

"What if I don't want to be an Avenger?"

"Why the hell wouldn't you?" he asked her with a grin.

Carol smiled back at him, a real smile this time, because he had a point.

* * *

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I said I would," Carol returned, sliding into the chair across from Phil's and giving the room a quick glance.

"What would you like to know," Phil began, looking her square in the eyes and watching as she drew in a quick breath before she could return his gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me about the psychological exams?"

"To start with, they weren't exams so much as a compilation of reports. The purpose was to understand who you are through the things you've done, your interactions with other people. Your past. It included observations made about you while you've been in SHIELD custody."

"Did you add to these observations?"

"Yes."

"And I failed?"

"No."

"Clint said I failed," Carol countered, shaking her head. "Tony said -"

"This wasn't a pass or fail situation," Phil cut in. "It wasn't... It was more of a way for SHIELD to get a better idea of who you are. To gauge whether or not you'd be a good fit."

"And I wasn't."

"That's not true," Phil said, shaking his head, albeit reluctantly. "They found nothing indicating that at all. What's more, the rest of the team likes you, which is the most important part of the process."

"Was this before or after I bit their heads off?"

"Before," Phil answered with a faint smile. "But no one is holding that against you. They understand the situation you're in."

Carol sighed, casting about the room again for something to divert her attention but falling short.

"They don't know me," she finally said, picking up a stray napkin to shred. "I really don't know them, either. Why choose me? Why would they want me?"

"They know what you can do and they understand your potential. They've seen firsthand what you're willing to do. They've read the files and they know your record. All of that and Clint speaks very highly of you."

"Just Clint?"

"Carol," Phil said with a sigh.

"You don't want me to be an Avenger."

"No. I don't."

"Why?" she asked, genuinely hurt and for once unable to hide her emotions.

"Because you don't have to do this," he answered, but not without a struggle. "You don't have to be part of this, Carol. You've given enough. You... You deserve to have a life."

"Phil," Carol laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she did, "have you been listening to me at all? Have you heard anything I've said about my life before all of this happened? Anything?"

"Don't do that," he said, still serious. "You know what I mean."

"I really don't."

"You don't realize what you'd be giving up. You can't realize it until..."

"I'm perfectly capable of making that decision," she argued, no longer laughing even a little.

"You lost four years, Carol," Phil said, becoming as angry as she was. "I can't ask you for more. I won't. It isn't fair."

"Nothing is ever fair, Phil," she snapped. "When has any part of life ever been fair to anyone? I didn't ask for this -"

"And because of that you are under no obligation to SHIELD, or the Avengers, or me... or anyone."

"But I am."

"Carol."

"I'm obligated to myself," she clarified. "If there's a chance, whatever it may be, to do some good, I want in. I have to. That's who I am. I have these powers now, like it or not, and I'm going to do something with them. Something worthwhile."

"Don't," he said sharply. "This isn't destiny. This isn't fate. Those things don't exist. This was an accident. It was circumstance. That's all. You only have to do what you want to do in this life. Nothing more."

"What I wanted to do in this life was to be a fighter pilot," Carol shrugged. "And I was. A damn good one, too. But that part of my life is over. They won't take me back, Phil. They can't. You and I both know they've been weeding out mutants for years. Hell, it's been so long, they may have finished by now. But if the military won't let a mutant serve, they're certainly not going to let a half-alien."

"You have other options."

"I don't," Carol said as she shook her head.

"If you do this," Phil said, growing weary of the fight and feeling as if he'd already lost, "you'll never have a normal life."

"I never wanted a normal life," she objected, and before he could counter her argument continued on. "I thought I could do it. Once. I thought David and I would make it work but I wasn't lying when I said it would have been a disaster. Well, I was lying, but only to myself. About a lot of things. Four years is a long time to think things through and... and he's better off without me. He's happy, and I can be too. But not sitting at a desk. Not writing other people's stories. Not sitting back and planning all the action. I have to do something," she stressed. "I have to be part of it. Part of the solution. And... and I think I can do this. No, I know I can. I just need a chance."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

"I'm afraid not, Bug."

Phil shut his eyes as he let out a soft chuckle.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Carol repeated.

"Come back with me to the Tower," Phil said. "There's a lot of work still to do. A lot to catch you up on. Tony will want to assign you a room, and Bruce and Bobbi have been itching to run their own biometric scans, talk with you about your powers. Maria will have forms. I have forms." He stopped and sighed. "Jasper can set you up on the systems. Clint can show you around, he runs security onsite."

"Wait," Carol said, jumping in while she had the chance. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"There's no test? No trial?"

"Do you want a test?"

"No."

"Okay then," Phil said with a smile. "Oh, but you will need a codename."

"Captain Amazing."

"No."

"I don't get to pick my own codename?" Carol asked sounding disappointed.

"No, you do, but I have final say," Phil answered.

"And I can't be Captain Amazing?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because technically, you're a Major," Phil answered with a smile. "You were promoted posthumously."

"Marvelous," Carol said, semi-sarcastically making him laugh.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Phil asked after a brief pause.

"No," she answered, shaking her head as she resumed tearing at the napkin on the table.

"Are we..." Phil started to ask, but let the words trail off.

"I understand why," Carol began, a frown pulling down her face slightly. "I just wish... Can we not do this again? I have exactly two friends left, Phil. You and Ace. I can't afford to lose either of you so, the next time, will you just tell me? Save us both a lot of heartache?"

"I'm not used to working that way, but... but I can do that."

"Good," she said with a short nod. "And next time I will skip all the passive aggressive nonsense and tell you directly why I am angry."

"I'm sorry, Carol."

"Stop," she said, grinning back at him slowly. "You don't have to and it's okay. It really is."

"Just like that?"

"Life's too short to hold grudges," Carol answered.

"Especially when you've already been dead once," Phil added.

"Let's not do that again either."

"Agreed," Phil said.

"Hold on," she said, getting up and hurrying to the bar. "We haven't toasted," Carol said as she returned with a drink in each hand.

"I'm a little out of practice," he said with a laugh as he took the offered drink.

"Doesn't matter. I'll go first."

"What about the rules?" he asked, but she just shook her head as if the rules were unimportant.

"To Phil Coulson," she said, taking him by surprise. "The best man I know."

"Still?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, still," she laughed, her glass still in the air as she waited on him. "Of course still."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Okay then," Phil said, stopping to clear his throat before clinking his glass against her own. "To Carol Danvers. Avenger."

**The End**


End file.
